


No Little Plans

by Candyland



Category: Magic Kaito, 名探偵コナン | Detective Conan | Case Closed
Genre: F/M, Murder Mystery
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-11-06
Updated: 2014-11-06
Packaged: 2018-02-24 09:52:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 16,051
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2577209
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Candyland/pseuds/Candyland
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There's a serial killer on the loose, with an very odd MO. Helping with the investigation means that Kaito might need to watch his back for more than one reason...</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Invisible Patterns

_Make no little plans; they have no magic to stir men’s blood and probably will_  
 _themselves not be realized. Make big plans; aim high in hope and work, remembering_  
 _that a noble, logical diagram once recorded will not die._  
 _\- Daniel Burnham_

“Yo, Keibu!”

Nakamori Ginzo looked up from his desk at the familiar greeting, and was only slightly startled to see his daughter’s best friend standing in the doorway, leaning lazily against the frame with one hand in his pocket, and something swinging loosely in his other hand. He was grinning from ear to ear.

The police inspector smiled dryly. “Kaito-kun, have I finally convinced you to start using the door like a normal person?”

Kaito shook his head; his grin grew a bit wider. “Not in a million years. It’s more that I hadn’t actually planned on coming out here to see you tonight, and so sadly I didn’t have anything with me that I could use to scale the building.” He pushed away from the doorframe and took a few casual steps into the office. “I actually come bearing a present from your lovely daughter.”

The noise Nakamori made was somewhere between a snort and a growl. “Present?”

“She made the comment that you’ve been working far too hard lately, and she’s extremely worried about you and your health. But fear not, inspector of mine!” He held out the item in his free hand—a brown paper bag—with a flourish. “I quelled the lovely Aoko’s anger by promising her that I would stop in to check on you and make sure that you ate the dinner she prepared for you.”

That earned a small laugh. “I suppose I should be grateful to you that I’m not going to catch hell when I get home, then?”

“So long as you go home fed, you should be fine.”

With another chuckle, the inspector held out a hand to accept the proffered paper bag. He opened and slid out the enclosed sandwich and apple while Kaito dropped into the chair on the other side of the desk and made himself comfortable.

Six months ago, this scene never would have crossed Nakamori’s mind. Sitting here with Kuroba Kaito in the police office, chatting like the best of friends about the strangest of things. After the events of a night that now seemed years ago, he hadn’t been certain he would ever see Kaito again unless it was with bars between them.

Finding out Kaito was Kaitou Kid had been the shock of Nakamori’s life. Finding out that singular fact after Kaito had been shot by a bullet intended for the inspector had made for a few very long, very terrifying days as they waited for the young man to awaken, to live or die, as they all tried to come to terms with the betrayal, the secrets, and the lies…and Kaito’s new status.

The deal had kept him out of prison and given the police access to his considerable skill set. And the following months had given him plenty of time to prove himself in the eyes of the few law enforcement superiors privy to the arrangement. As was always the case with Kaito, he never did anything by halves; his first official case under the deal involved breaking up a child prostitution ring that had set up business in the city’s seedier district and acquired their so-called “merchandise” via kidnapping.

Since then, he hadn’t been involved in anything quite as extreme. A good deal of his time was spent at recon, gathering information, and speaking with those who would not otherwise offer any sort of assistance to the police. He had contacts in the underworld, people of a lesser reputation whose trust he had earned; they told him things because they trusted him not to improperly use their testimony or to tell anyone from whom or where he had garnered his information.

What had started as an uneasy, distrustful partnership had started to settle and blossom into a trusted union between two parties who ultimately had identical goals, but vastly different means of reaching those goals. Both parties benefitted from the arrangement; both parties were pleased.

After they had chatted for a few moments, Kaito piped up with a question. “So Aoko says you’ve been working late the last few nights, and that you seem sort of worried about something. What’s up?”

“Just a lot of little things at first,” Nakamori said between mouthfuls; he hadn’t really realized how hungry he had been until the first meeting of apple and mouth. “But then an officer from another division brought over a file and asked for my opinion on it. I’ve been mulling over it for the last couple of days. It’s sort of a bizarre case.”

There was no denying that Kaito’s eyes lit up the tiniest bit at the prospect of the unknown. “What kind of case is it?”

“A murder. And a damned odd one at that.” One of Nakamori’s hands disappeared down into a desk drawer, and when it reappeared it was clutching a standard beige file folder, which he passed across the desk to his young accomplice. “Here’s the information. Maybe you can make something of it.”

Kaito’s face had immediately sobered at the nature of the case. He took the file and immediately began flipping through the information. It was all fairly standard reports at first: autopsy, victim information, and so forth. The victim was a twenty-two-year old man who worked as a software developer. Brown hair, blue eyes. Married, no children. A fairly normal guy who had gone out to the bar with a couple of friends, left early by himself, and vanished into the darkness. He had been found the next night.

Kaito’s brow furrowed as he read over the details of the case proper. It was, to say the least, an extremely odd scene. The body had been found on a stage in a high school auditorium, where a janitor had stumbled across it during routine cleaning. The coroner had ruled the cause of death as aphyxiation; bruising patterns on the victim’s neck were consistent with tape, and the lack of bruising on the face led police to speculate that the murder weapon was something as commonplace as a plastic bag. The only other wounds on the body were bruises on the wrists and ankles (indicative that the victim had been bound and conscious enough to struggle), and a wound to the back of the head, severe enough to render the victim unconscious, but not enough to kill.

The police’s theory was straightforward and followed the evidence: the murderer had smacked the victim in the head with a blunt object hard enough to render him unconscious. While the man was out cold, he had been bound and moved. The story of a stuggle was marked in bruises, which meant that the victim had been at least partially conscious when the bag was pulled over his head and secured around his neck. He had suffocated, presumably while the murderer stood and watched.

But it was the staging of the scene that had baffled everyone the most, and was the clearest indication that the killer had borne witness to the death. When the victim was found, he had been laid out on his back…with a bullet in his chest; he had been shot posthumously. Beside him on the stage were several more bullets, all marked with different designs (as evidenced by a police photo in the file), and a plain white card inscribed with three typed words in English: _Lower the curtain._

After he finished reading a few moments later, Kaito glanced back up. “I’m going to go out on a limb and say you don’t really have any leads on this one?” It was one of the oddest things he personally had ever read outside of a fictional novel.

“Nothing. The perp didn’t even leave a trace of evidence behind, not so much as a smudged fingerprint,” Nakamori put his elbow on his desk and let his forehead lull forward into his palm. “Our only potential clue is the staging of the body. That card, the bullets…it’s a message of some sort. We just don’t have any idea what it could be.”

“Was there anything with the victim or his family that this could be linked to?”

“We haven’t found anything,” Nakamori said. “Hana-san was a computer programmer. Loved baseball, reading, and his wife Maya. His mother said he hadn’t been on a stage since his last high school culture festival. This was an up-and-up guy, Kaito-kun. The only skeleton in his closet was taking a candy bar from a convenience store when he was four.”

Kaito’s eyes dropped back to the assorted papers in his lap. “It’s odd, but this feels sort of…I don’t know, it’s like I’ve read something like this before. Ever run into a person and you know you’ve got their name right on the tip of your tongue, but you just can’t make it come out right? That’s the feeling I’ve got looking at this.”

Nakamori’s head snapped up sharply to look at him. “Kaito, if you have anything at all—“

“Just a second, let me think…” Kaito pressed his palm against his forehead. He had a damn near perfect memory, but every now and then it was just a matter of rousing little-used information from where it was resting in the lower parts of his mind and dragging it forward. Now was one of those times.

Nakamori waited with as much patience as he could muster (which admittedly wasn’t much), quietly hoping for Kaito to figure out whatever it was that he was trying to figure out. The seconds ticked steadily by on the wall clock as he waited, each feeling a bit longer than the last, just as they usually do when a person is waiting for something important.

When Kaito snapped his fingers and spoke with a triumphant bark, it was so sudden that Nakamori actually jumped in his desk chair, banging his knee on his desk hard enough to elicit a muted round of cursing from the inspector. “Chung Ling Soo!”

The inspector rubbed his aching knee and blinked at the teenager through slightly teary eyes, as though simply by staring he would make the words form some sort of sense. “What?”

Kaito, meanwhile, was smacking himself in the forehead and speaking very fast. “Chung Ling Soo was an American magician of Chinese descent. In order to build up a name for himself, he pretended to be outright Chinese. Changed his name, never spoke English in public, had a translater, started a big public feud with another Chinese performer and so on.”

“Interesting, but…what exactly is your point?” Nakamori asked blankly.

“Chung Ling Soo’s most famous trick was a magic bullet trick,” Kaito said excitedly. “Two of his crew would come up on stage. Audience members would mark the bullets, and then the crew members would fire the guns at him. He would miraculously ‘catch’ the marked bullets.” Kaito even felt the need to accent his statement by making finger-quotes at the appropriate time. “He would just palm them, really, and then pretend to catch them. Usually with his hand, but sometimes he would pretend to catch them in his mouth.”

“I think I can guess where this is going…” Nakamori sighed. “The trick went wrong.”

“Excellent guess, and one hundred percent right,” Kaito nodded. “Improper handling and maintenance of the guns had led to a build-up of gunpowder. One night, when he performed the trick, the build-up led the gun to fire the normal way instead of the stage way. He was shot square on, right in front of his audience. And he said something like, ‘Something has gone wrong. Lower the curtain.’”

“That’s what the card we found with the body said,” the inspector said, comprehension dawning. “And the bullets were—“

“Marked,” Kaito said. “For the record, that was the first and last time that Chung Ling Soo ever spoke English in public. He died the following day from his injuries. At the inquest, his wife revealed how the trick was done, and it was ruled an accidental death.”

Nakamori managed to look both interested and skeptical at the same time. “So you think that after the murder was committed, the killer staged the scene with the body to be reminiscient of this magician, Chung—what was it again?”

“Chung Ling Soo,” Kaito repeated. “And it’s the only thing I can think of that uses all the pieces.” He glanced back down at the photographs in his lap. “Lower the curtain could be a metaphor for the body being found on the stage, but it doesn’t explain a posthumous gunshot to the chest, nor does it explain the marked bullets.” With a sigh, Kaito closed the folder and passed it back across the desk to the inspector. “It’s extremely twisted, Keibu, and it’s theatrical even by my standards, and I couldn’t even begin to tell you the reasons behind it, but that’s what I think. All the pieces fit together that way.”

“Emulating the death of a famous magician,” Nakamori murmured. He reached across the desk and grabbed the phone. “Just stay put for a moment, would you Kaito-kun?” A quick dial later, and Nakamori was on the phone with one of his superiors. One of the ones who was in the know regarding Kaito’s arrangement with the police.

Kaito waited obediently while the inspector told the man on the other end of the line about the possibility of a new development in the bizarre murder case. As he listened, he found himself realizing that he may have just inadvertantly gotten himself involved in a murder investigation, whether he really wanted to be involved or not.

**_-o-_ **

“So Dad tells me that you’re helping him with a case?” Aoko asked in That Tone. It was a specific tone of voice that she used when the question itself was innocent and conversational, but the discussion that promised to follow would most likely be anything but, and she wanted him to be aware of it.

He grinned at her over his shoulder from where he stood at the sink, washing some dishes for his mother; Aoko had stayed for dinner while her father was once again working late. “He speaks the truth. He showed me something related to a case he’s working on, and I noticed something about it. Seems to have given the investigation a bit of a jump-start. I’m being brought on as a consultant. As myself this time, no less. Not as…well, my alter ego.”

Kid still stood between them, but it was less a painful matter now as it was more something they were both wholly aware of, but more often than not just did not discuss. It was easier that way. Aoko had made her grudging peace with the fact that her best friend was a criminal (of sorts, given his current situation), but she still preferred not to outright talk about it.

“Tell me about the case,” she said in that same tone. If he did not answer, he was in big trouble. That much was certain. “Or at least tell me whatever you can about it.” There had been a few times where he outright couldn’t say anything, as much for her protection as for his own and everyone else’s.

He could have played the confidential card, but he didn’t feel like it, and he was tired of keeping Aoko out of the loop. “It’s a murder case. Someone killed a man, then staged the scene around his body to look like the very strange death of a famous magician. It’s pretty bizarre.”

“Since Dad barely knows anything about magicians beyond the one card trick your dad taught him years ago, I’m going to go out on a limb and guess that you were the one who made that connection,” Aoko postulated. She had moved from the table to lean against the counter next to Kaito as he rinsed the next newly-cleaned plate.

“I was,” he admitted without bragging. “Sounds like the whole department was stumped over this one, and the researchers hadn’t found the necessary connection yet. It just doesn’t make any sense why someone would go to all that trouble, ya know?”

“So what are you going to do now?” she asked.

“Your dad is getting together some files for me. Unsolved murders. This whole thing doesn’t feel like the work of an amatuer, and a first-time killer probably wouldn’t start with anything this fancy. Way too risky. It’s all too specific. So—“

“You’re going back through the old files and hoping to find some others that might send up red flags,” Aoko finished his sentence for him. “Look for a pattern, and try to determine whether or not you’ve got a serial killer on your hands.” At his raised eyebrow, she grinned. “I’m a police officer’s daughter, Kaito. I’ve picked up a thing or two over the years.”

“I know, I know,” he chuckled. “At least this time I can be open with my assistance, not acting like a secret agent and hiding in the shadows. That’ll be a nice change of pace.” The last clean glass was put in the drainer to dry, and he turned to face he completely, drying his hands on the dishtowel. “We’ll see what happens, I guess.”

One of Aoko’s hands came up to brush a piece of lint away from his sleeve before resting on his shoulder. “Just promise me you’ll be careful, okay? Don’t need you nearly getting yourself killed again.”

“I don’t think there’s much chance of anything happening to me on this case,” Kaito said. “But I promise.” As he leaned down to steal a quick kiss, he reflected, not for the first time, how glad he was that he no longer had to lie to her about things.

**_-o-_ **

Of all the things Kaito should have felt over this case, he felt sort of bad that one of the main things he felt was amusement. It wasn’t so much amusement at there being a potential serial killer on the loose, nor was it amusement at people being killed.

It was amusement at the fact that he had been put through the confidentiality rigamarole before being allowed into the file room in the first place. Really, he could have just snuck in during the night and taken care of it without anyone even knowing he was here. But oh well, such was the way of things.

Besides, as he’d told Aoko, it was rather nice to be able to help out openly with a case under his own name and with his own face, instead of being the ‘anonymous source’ in the darkness who brought the police information and witness testimony before vanishing once more into the night and the seedy shadows of the criminal underworld.

He had been down here for several hours now, sifting through stacks of police files. All of them murders, and all of them cases that had gone cold within the last two years. If it was deemed necessary, he would go back further. In the meantime, this was a starting point.

There were two piles of folders sitting on the table around him. The far larger one consisted of ones that didn’t seem to ring any bells or set off any red flags in his mind. Those were the ones he would eventually put back onto the shelves with the rest of the unsolved crimes to await the day that some intrepid detective would reopen the files and finally piece together what had happened and close the case for the victim.

At the moment he could not help those poor souls. He tried not to feel guilty about it, focusing on his task instead. The Chung Ling Soo copycat had left a bad taste in his mouth.

The smaller pile actually consisted of only two folders at the moment. These were ones that were strange and merited a second look, to Kaito’s mind. If his hunch was correct, then those were the ones that could potentially link to the body that had surfaced a week ago and give them the official nod that there was a lot more going on than they had first suspected.

Finally, he finished and set about putting the majority of the files away. The pile that he had mentally labeled “Case of Possible Relevance” now consisted of an astonishing five folders, though he would freely admit that it was entirely possible that he was wrong about some or all of them.

But his gut told him that he wasn’t, no matter how much he desperately wished that he was.

**_-o-_ **

The table in the conference room was surrounded by people, primarily homicide detectives. Nakamori was there as well, having brought the serial killer possibility to light and for having suggested Kaito as a consultant in the first place. Two of the higher-ups were also in attendance. Everyone was no little alarmed at the possibility of there having been a serial killer right under their noses for any length of time without them knowing about it or doing anything actively to try and stop it.

Finally, Nakamori rose and cleared his throat. The room fell silent quickly. “All right, let’s get this meeting started. My name is Nakamori. I usually work on theft cases, Kaitou Kid heists in particular. As most of you know, it appears that we have a very big problem on our hands: a potential serial killer. Due to the nature of this case, we have a couple of expert consultants who have been brought on board to assist in getting this matter settled as quickly as possible.”

The unspoken coda to that statement was ‘before there are more victims.’ No one said it, but everyone heard it, and nodded their assent.

“This is Kuroba Kaito,” Nakamori gestured to the young man sitting beside him. “Don’t let his age fool you, he knows just about everything there is to know about magic and magicians. He’s the one who actually tipped us off in the first place.” While Nakamori’s superiors knew the truth, the official story being fed was that Kaito had spoken of Chung Ling Soo during a dinner conversation with the inspector and his daughter Aoko, and the pieces had fallen into place from there.

“Kaito-kun has been going through some of our cold cases, and he has a few that he thinks might be relevent to the recent homicide,” Nakamori went on, gesturing towards the folders on the table in front of the younger man.

Kaito inclined his head in greeting. “I’ll be glad to assist in any way that I can.”

Nakamori sat down. On the other side of the table, another man rose. This one was shorter and rather portly. Kaito recognized him quickly as Megure-keibu, of homicide, and was confirmed when the man introduced himself as such and mentioned the other consultant who was joining them and had only just arrived due to other obligations.

When the other consultant stepped through the door, Kaito was pretty sure his heart stopped. This was not at all what he expected, nor had he been aware of it, and if there was one thing that could prove to be a problem and a threat to his secret, this was it.

The other consultant smiled and nodded a greeting. “Kudo Shinichi, detective. Nice to meet you.”


	2. Coming Into Focus

As Kudo Shinichi took the seat that had been left vacant for him beside Megure-keibu, Kaito remained nonchalant. While Kaitou Kid might have the oddest of workin relationships with the great detective, Kuroba Kaito had never encountered him, though he had undoubtedly read about the young man in the papers and was aware of his reputation.

He particularly recalled a case from several months earlier, just after his first case with the police, that had made papers the world over. Turned out that Snake wasn’t the only trigger-happy lunatic in a black coat. Kudo had been on the run from a few of his own, and when the case had broken it had immediately been international news. If Kaito hadn’t borne personal witness to Kudo’s shrunken alter ego, he would have found the whole thing almost too outrageous to believe.

And he bit back a smile as he also recalled a newspaper story that had come out only a couple of months before, detailing that with the information garnered from the Organization’s files, an antidote to Kudo’s rather unusual “condition” had been found, and he was once again back to his normal self.

And, Kaito presumed, more or less joined at the hip with a certain young woman.

Once Kudo was seated, Tokishiro (the high-ranking officer who had been so dead-set against forging a police alliance with Kaitou Kid) rose and began the briefing. “We’re bringing in some of our best and brightest on this one. For the sake of those who are new to the case, let’s start at the beginning.”

He shifted a few pieces of paper around on the table in front of him, and then began to speak. “Last week, a body was found on the stage of a school auditorium. The victim was Hana Yukito, a twenty-two year old software designer with a family and no criminal record. The autopsy led the coroner to rule the cause of death as suffocation. Bruising indicated that the victim had been bound, and had been conscious enough to struggle. Bruising around the neck was consistent with tape, possibly duct tape. It is our belief that the victim was bound, and a bag was placed over his head and tape around his neck, leading to his death.”

The only other sound in the room was the sound of scratching pens as other officers jotted down notes.

Tokishiro went on. “The staging of the scene is what set this apart. A posthumous gunshot wound to the chest, marked bullets scattered around the body, and a card with the phrase ‘Lower the curtain’ typed in English. This is reminiscient of the death of an American magician named…” the officer paused to check his notes, “…Chung Ling Soo. Nakamori-keibu brought this possibility to our attention after a conversation with Kuroba-kun about the odd ways magicians tend to die. It was for this reason that we asked him to consult on this case.”

Kaito nodded.

“The whole thing seems too meticulous to be the work of an amatuer, and so it is our fear that we might have a serial killer on our hands. Kuroba-kun has been looking through some of our cold case files. I believe he has a few he considers suspect, so I will turn the floor over to him to explain his findings and his reasoning on the matter.” He nodded to Kaito with none of the animosity that had marked their dealings in the earliest days of his direct dealings with the police.

Now that the floor was his, Kaito stood. He had the folders in front of him as reference, though he knew the death stories by this point as well as he knew his own name. He picked up the first one and began to address the assembled officers.

“I went as far as two years back to at least give us a starting point. If it is required, I can look back further. I found five cases that I felt were suspect. The criteria I used was fairly simple. I looked for cases with a similar cause of death, and from those I looked at the state and location of the body upon discovery. Here’s what I found.”

He flipped open the first folder. “Two years ago, a man’s body was found. Caue of death was suffocation. The man was later identified as a twenty-five-year-old businessman named Yamazaki Satoru. He left work one night after a meeting, and the next day his car was still in the lot. His body was found behind the counter of a local shop that sells, among other things, basic magic tricks and supplies. He had been shot, posthumously.”

“I presume that this is reminiscient of some magician?” one of the officers sitting with Megure (Shiratori, Kaito’s excellent memory quickly supplied, of the Tokyo Metropolitan Police Force) asked.

“You presume correctly. Lynn Searles was murdered during a robbery of his magic shop,” Kaito nodded. “The next one that seemed suspect to me popped up three months later. Another man, aged twenty-three, named Saki Touya, told his wife he was going to run to the store down the street for milk. He never came home. His body was found outside a hospital. A nurse going on a smoke break found him and called the police.”

As he spoke, he shuffled to the next folder. “The basics are the same. Suffocation was the cause of death, and there was evidence of a blow to the head and the victim having been bound. But this victim had actually been cut open, and his appendix and a small portion of his intestine were removed.”

Nakamori spoke up then. “You’re telling me there’s a magician who died from that?”

“No. But there is a very famous magician and escape artist who died as a result of peritonitis, which came about as a result of untreated appendicitis,” Kaito said.

“Harry Houdini,” Kudo spoke up.

Kaito nodded. “The master himself. Would have probably lived if he’d just gotten some medical treatment.” He glanced down at the file folder in his hand. “It could be that our murderer has some sort of basic medical training…but then again, if there’s enough time, anyone could crack open an anatomy textbook and figure out what’s what. And the coroner did make a note that the removal did not appear to be surgically precise.”

"That's three victims, counting our most recent," Megure said.

Kaito grabbed the next folder on the stack. "There's another gap here, this one only a month long, before another victim was found. This was also a twenty-three-year-old man, named Gosho Aoyama, manga artist. His wife said their cat ran outside, and he went to look for it. The cat came home, but Gosho didn't. And yes, there is a pattern here."

"The killer was looking for victims of opportunity," Kudo observed. "That much is clear. We'll have to look a bit deeper to see if the potential victims have any other connection. Most serial killers have some sort of a victim profile. A specific type they look for." He gave Kaito a look. "Didn't mean to cut you off, but I thought I'd toss it out there. Continue?"

"Gosho was found the next morning. Again, suffocation. Like Saki-san, he had been cut open, but this time it was the heart that was removed," Kaito said. He had accidentally glimpsed one of the autopsy photos, and it was not a pretty picture. "Once again, the removal was not the work of anyone with surgical experience. And he was found in a very odd location. His body was discovered on the sound stage of a local television studio. A camera had been left turned on and rolling and pointed at him."

"Who do you believe this to be?"

"Tommy Cooper. Welsh magician, famed as much for his trademark of 'tricks going wrong' as he was for being an extremely unpleasant man. He had a heart attack on live national television and was pronounced dead on arrival at the hospital," Kaito explained, setting the folder aside.

There were now two left, and these felt rather like the worst ones. He sighed and began to explain. "These last two are actually two halves of the same case. Victims are identical twin brothers by the name of Hoshi. Yuki and Yuri, age nineteen. They went out to a bar with some friends to celebrate a birthday. The friends were questioned, and said that Yuri's cell phone rang, and he went outside to take the call. When he hadn't returned fifteen minutes later, Yuki went out to see if he was all right. Neither came back inside, and they were reported missing the next day. The missing persons report actually came in less than ten minutes before the call came about the body."

"…you say body, as in the singular. But aren't there two victims there?"

Kaito nodded. "The bodies were found on the stage at a club where live bands perform. The bar's owner and employees both said that there was nothing there when they'd close up the night before, which was around two AM. The young men had vanished over two hours before that. The next morning they came in to start getting things set up, and there's a pile of burned wood on the stage. They ran over to make sure it was out, and found a body."

He shuffled the folders, feeling the overwhelming need to do something with his hands. "The body was burned beyond recognition. It was ultimately dental records that identified the victim as Hoshi Yuki. His brother was still missing, and there was actually a bit of speculation that Yuri might be responsible for Yuki's death. That changed very quickly when they began sifting through the debris that had been left on stage and burned with the body. Not too long into the clean-up, they found a second body."

"No prizes for guessing who?"

"Again, dental records provided an identification that this was, in fact, Hoshi Yuri. Cleared of suspicion of murder by being a murder victim himself," Kaito affirmed. "Exact cause of death could not be determined, but the circumstances were singular enough that I'm confident including this one in our list of potential cases of interest. There was a magician named Lafayette, the stage name for Sigmund Neuberger, born in Germany. He was performing his most famous trick, the Lion's Bride, when an electrical short caused a fire to break out on the stage."

"Where does the second body come from?"

"That's what makes this case so odd. They found a burned body in the remains of Lafayette's stage, declared it to be the magician, and sent it off to be cremated. Well, they keep digging, and find _another_ body. Turned out that the first body they'd found was actually Lafayette's body double, an element of the magical illusion. The second body was the magician himself."

"Hence the identical twins."

"It fits to a tee." Kaito closed the folders and set them aside before sitting once more. He held his hands open on the tabletop, as though to show that all of his cards were on the table. "Those are the ones I've seen thus far that appear suspect, and you have just heard my reasoning as to why I think they are. If it's needed, I can continue looking."

"If I may?" Kudo spoke up. "At the risk of sounding sexist, I suspect that our killer is a male. Not to say that a woman couldn't have done it, but our victim profile consists of young, healthy males. To first overpower the victim, and then move them? It just seems like a lot of physical strength would be needed to do all that."

The female officer (Satou, Kaito remembered) nodded. "It seems logical to me, although I don't think we can completely rule out the alternative possibility." She was peering at her notes, and the gears were almost audibly turning her head; Kaito liked her immensely. "My question is why magicians?"

"Resentment? Twisted admiration? It's hard to say," Nakamori tossed out there.

The discussion was growing increasingly lively as people read over notes and tried to form theories. Shiratori spoke up next. "There's the possibility of a trigger. Many serial killers have a great deal of some strong emotion shut away, and only start killing after someone or something triggers it. Many killers also form a pattern for various reasons. Sometimes they just hope that they'll be caught."

"But while there is a pattern here, it's one that the average person wouldn't notice," Nakamori added. "Even for us, it took an offhand comment to start the pieces falling into place. Up until this point, we had several cold cases, spread over many months, that were just extremely odd homicides. There wasn't really much to suggest that they were related."

Kaito sat back and listened carefully as theories bounced around him, voiced and discussed and mostly discarded just as quickly. This was not going to be an easy one. There was precious little for forensic evidence, a series of victims with nothing in common at present (although there was every possibility that something might come to light as they began to look further into the victims), and some of the cases were more than a year old.

This was not going to be a simple case to crack, but Kaito realized he had taken it as a bit of a personal affront towards magic and his fellow magicians. Adding that to his deeply rooted hatred of murderers and their deeds, and he would see this case through to the end, one way or another.

**_-o-_ **

To Kaito’s surprise, Kudo caught up to him outside the conference room. “Forgive my rudeness, but…Kuroba, is it? Any relation to Kuroba Toichi?”

Kaito was actually a bit surprised by the question (though he couldn't say precisely why), but hid it behind a simple nod. “My father.” He smiled, a genuine smile. “I’ve been told that I’m well on my way to following in his footsteps.”

Kudo nodded. “He and my mother were friends. I met him once. I was just wondering.” He shrugged. “So I’m taking it that you’ve been called in for the purpose of lining up murder scenes with magicians?”

“Yup,” Kaito said as they began to walk together, moving in unison by some unspoken accord.

"I'd say it's sort of odd for the police to bring in such a young consultant, but I have a feeling that would be a case of the pot and the kettle talking about their favorite colors," Kudo said.

Kaito had to chuckle. "I think it's more a case of nepotism than anything else. I've known Nakamori-keibu since I was five, I've been following his daughter around for slightly longer than that, and at present I get to pester her to kiss me and bring her shiny things on White Day."

"That's a story I know all too well," Kudo grinned. There was a short pause before he spoke again. "This is going to sound weird, but…" Kudo hesitated for a split second before he seemed to decide to just bite the bullet, "…have we met before?"

Kaito managed to keep his expression neutral, even though the question made something in his stomach coil up and groan. "I don't believe so." A grin, worthy of any Oscar-winning actor. "I'm pretty sure I would remember meeting you, great detective."

Not surprisingly, Kudo didn't look entirely convinced. "I'm sure I'd remember meeting you outright as well. And I can say without bragging that I have an excellent memory…although certain persons would beg to differ." He rolled his eyes affectionately, and Kaito was fairly sure he knew that Kudo was thinking of long hair and pretty blue eyes at that moment. "But I can't shake the feeling that we've met before. Maybe in passing? At a party somewhere?"

"No. We haven't," Kaito said, alarmed to hear himself sound a bit short.

"…all right. Sorry, but you just seem very familiar to me," Kudo said. "I must have been mistaken." There was a tone in his voice that suggested that the matter was not quite dropped yet. His smile confirmed it, with the look of a man who knew there was a secret afoot and was determined to find out exactly what it was. "I look forward to working with you, Kuroba."

As Kudo walked away, Kaito couldn't help but feel like he might be in a bit of trouble.

**_-o-_ **

"Kudo Shinichi's consulting on this case."

Aoko looked startled. "The detective?"

"He's chased Kid before, and he outright told me he swears he knows me from somewhere," Kaito said.

"Do you think he could be a threat to you? If the truth gets out, Kaito…" she wrung a dishtowel between her hands. "This isn't good at all." It sort of floored him to hear her say that, considering that six months ago she would probably have kissed the detective senseless if he'd brought down the phantom thief.

Things certainly had changed a lot in a fairly short length of time.

"I don't know. But I'm going to have to watch myself very carefully," Kaito said. In spite of everything, he felt a smile begin to tug at his face as he thought about the whole thing. Working in close quarters with his greatest (and in some ways, his friendliest) rival to try and solve a vicious crime, all while maintaining his Great Big Secret…

Let it never be said that Kuroba Kaito didn't like a challenge.

**_-o-_ **

"Shinichi?"

"In here."

He waited, standing beside the desk and mentally ticking off seconds as they passed. Exactly seven seconds clicked by before the library door opened and Ran peered inside. "I tried to call earlier but you didn't answer." She stepped in and closed the door behind her. "Was it that case you mentioned?"

"I was at a meeting for that, yes," he admitted.

"Can you tell me about it?" she asked, dropping to sit in one of the overstuffed chairs.

"It's been a while since I've been involved in one like this," he said, imitating her moves and taking a seat in the other chair. "Serial killer. And a damned bizarre one at that." He glanced down at the book in his hands, a potential source of research entitled Great Magicians of the Twentieth Century, and decided to go ahead and tell her. Between being a policeman's daughter and the best friend-slash-girlfriend of a detective, she knew the rules of secrecy.

And to date, Megure and the others had always been kind enough to glance the other way when Ran seemed to know things about cases that she shouldn't necessarily be privy to. Just one more thing that Shinichi liked about the good ol' inspector.

"It looks like this guy's been operating for at least two years," he told her. "That's how far back we've gone. Kidnapping people, suffocating them, and staging the death scenes to resemble the deaths of famous magicians." Ran looked suitably startled, and he shrugged. "If I hadn't been at that meeting today, I'd think it was something more suited to one of my dad's novels, not a real case."

Ran frowned. "This sounds awfully…I don't know, Shinichi, should you really be involved with this?"

"That's the funny thing. I'm not the only kid they brought in on this. You've heard of Kuroba Toichi, right? Well, his son is apparently quite a magician in his own right. They've brought him in on the case to consult. He's the one who actually started the investigation off in the right direction in the first place. And he's our age, Ran," Shinichi paused.

"I know that expression," Ran said. She put one elbow on the arm of the chair and let her chin rest in her open palm, regarding him with a raised eyebrow. "I take it that something about Kuroba-kun is bothering you, but you don't know what."

"I feel like I've met him before, even though I know I haven't. He swears up and down that we haven't met before either," Shinichi steepled his fingers together in front of his face. "But I feel like he's hiding something. I don't know what it could be, and there's no real evidence. It's just a feeling, really."

"Do you think he might be dangerous?"

"No. I don't think he is. I just think he's hiding something, and I'd like to find out what it is."

She didn't look convinced, but she nodded. "Just…promise me you'll be careful, okay?"

If there was ever a phrase that spoke of forgiveness for his past transgressions, he thought that was it. "Always."

**_-o-_ **

His arms were bound. He couldn't get loose, and it was getting hard to breathe.

The trick was set up nearby, passing through a wall of fire without being hurt.

**That was Dad's last trick…**

Kaito shot awake in a cold sweat, gasping and clawing at his bedclothes. The blankets had managed to work their way up over his face. That would account for why he had felt like he couldn't breathe, maybe why he had dreamt of a bag over his face.

He rolled out of bed and stood up, stretching his arms over his head. What a nightmare…what a nightmare, indeed. Rolling his shoulders to try and loosen tense muscles (and shake off the bad dream), he walked over to his bedroom window and looked out towards the darkened street and the night sky. It was a clear night, moon and starts in full view.

It had been so long since he'd had a nightmare about Dad's last show, what he had ultimately discovered to be a cover-up for his murder. The body had been burned beyond recognition, destroying any evidence of alternative causes of death.

…it was the case, he reasoned. He had been all but living with this case for almost a week, digging through files, researching, explaining his reasoning to law enforcement…it was getting under his skin and making him remember something that he would rather leave in the past. Hopefully they would solve this soon so he could resign that all back to its proper place in history.

He just hoped that they wouldn't find a scene staged to resemble that particular magician's death.

Kaito wasn't sure he could handle it if they did.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Re: the Gosho joke...I JUST COULD NOT RESIST.


	3. Foggy

It was, to say the least, a bit of a shock when Kaito answered the knock on the door and found one Kudo Shinichi standing there. While he was normally pretty good about keeping his expressions under wraps (good ol' Poker Face rarely let him down), but the average person would register some sort of surprise at an unexpected visitor at such an hour - after all, the clock had just alerted Kaito to the lovely hour of one o'clock in the morning.

So he allowed that flicker of surprise. "Kudo, what're you doing here?" He gave himself a mental shake. "Sorry, it's late and I'm tired and my manners are usually the first thing to go. Come on in." He stepped aside to let the detective pass before closing and locking the door behind him. "I'm guessing that this is related to the case?"

Kudo quickly and silently slipped off his shoes and followed Kaito into the main room. "I guess you could say that…" Shinichi murmured in response. He took the appointed seat on the couch and waved off an offer of beverage or snack, for which Kaito was admittedly grateful. After all, he honestly was getting tired.

"What's up?" Kaito asked. He liked the detective and had enjoyed their conversation that afternoon, but this was just odd.

"Remember how I said I was sure I had met you somewhere before?"

"Yes. You were quite emphatic on that point."

"Well, I kept thinking about it," Kudo shifted in his seat, then seemed to change his mind and stood up. "And I still haven't remembered exactly where I met you. But the side effect is that, um…" He hesitated, then changed his mind and fell silent, hands hanging loosely at his sides.

"…side effect?" Kaito asked, genuinely confused.

"Bad choice of words, I think," Kudo murmured, more to himself than for Kaito's benefit.

"You have completely and totally lost me."

Kudo lifted his arms slightly, then dropped them again. Then he squared his shoulders almost inperceptibly, stalked forward to close the distance between them, grabbed Kaito by the arms…and proceeded to give him what could arguably be called the best kiss of his life.

And Kaito was too stunned to react until well after it had become the best kiss of his life, at which point he wasn't entirely sure that he actually wanted to react.

Kudo (should he maybe be calling him Shinichi now, he wondered, in light of the circumstances?) didn't seem to mind his lack of initial response, though he did pull back just a hair, enough to mumble against Kaito's lips, "Means I've been thinking about you all goddamn day," before resuming his teasing.

Aoko.

Aoko's face flickered through Kaito's mind. He was with her. He loved her. And this was--

His tired mind's last vestige of self control fell away and shattered as Kudo's hands joined the party, and then he was lost.

…maybe he wasn't as tired as he'd initally thought.

**_-o-_ **

When Kaito next roused to consciousness, he immediately knew that something was wrong, before he even opened his eyes. For starters, he couldn't move. Attempts to shift his arms and legs proved fruitless, and if the slightly painful sensation was any indication, he was bound at the wrists and ankles, his hands behind his back; the surface underneath him was hard and flat, which meant he was not in his own bed.

The other thing that sent up all sorts of bright flashing warning lights behind his eyes was that his head felt like it had been stuffed with cotton. The whole world felt extremely fuzzy, like he wasn't completely at one with reailty just yet. His mouth was dry and there was an odd aftertaste, and despite feeling rather warm, he felt chilled enough that shivers were rippling their way down his back. All these points added up to one disturbing conclusion.

He had been drugged.

Kaito desperately pushed at the fog in his mind in an attempt to recall the events of the night before, to see if he could remember at what point he might have been drugged, and who might have done it to him. What the hell had happened?

Oh, right. Kudo had come over and they had…

Kaito stopped that thought before it could get started. He wasn't entirely sure what he had been thinking, but while it had been quite an enjoyable experience (very, very enjoyable), there was not going to be a repeat. Not a chance.

…but Kudo was the only person Kaito could remember seeing the night before. He had let the detective into his house, and they had spent some, err, quality time together, and Kaito had fallen asleep. As the haze in his mind lifted, Kaito realized that unless someone else had snuck in during the night, there was only one culprit.

"You're awake."

A smooth, familiar tenor, so similar to Kaito's own. The words it spoke were not a question, but a statement.

Kaito finally dared to open his eyes, blinking against even the dim light in the room, wherever they were. Sure enough, Kudo Shinichi was standing over him, looking far too calm for the situation. Far too calm for Kaito's tastes, at least.

He also quickly noted his surroundings, a habit he had picked up early on in his career as a thief. They were on a stage somewhere, though Kaito couldn't see enough to even attempt a guess as to what auditorium they were in. But the scuffed hardwood floor combined with the curtains he could see by twisting his head to look back over his shoulder were more than enough for him to make an adequate judgement of his surroundings.

"Kudo," he said as calmly as he could manage, and was immediately appalled at the raspy noise that made its way out of his mouth and called itself his voice. He swallowed hard, cleared his throat, swallowed again, and tried that one more time. "Kudo, where are we? What's going on?"

"You're not an easy one to corner, you know that?" Kudo said with that same infuriating indifference. Like he didn't have Kaito bound and semi-helpless at his feet. "Though I have no complaints about the method that ended up working. No complaints at all, Kuroba." The first hint of emotion from Kudo came in the form of a very slight smirk. "I must say, though, I thought it would actually be more difficult than it utimately was. I never once expected you to walk right into my hands."

Kaito started shifting, carefully tugging at his bonds in an attempt to wriggle loose. His mind was still trying to catch up with things, complicating the process, but he figured it wouldn't hurt to try. But to his surprise, the bindings were expertly wrapped and the knots were expertly tied. This wouldn't be easy to escape from, no question about that. "I don't understand."

Kudo moved just out of Kaito's line of sight, though he did answer the question. "I guess I didn't think it would work out like this." There was a rustling sound. "Taking care of both Kuroba Toichi's son AND the immortal Kaitou Kid in one fell swoop? I must have gotten lucky this time."

Something inside Kaito went cold. "What are you talking about? Kudo, untie me."

"Not yet," Kudo moved back into Kaito's range of vision. There was a plastic bag in his hands, and a roll of duct tape around his wrist, erasing Kaito's last doubts about what was going on.

"Kudo, you…" Kaito tried to say something, but the words died in his mouth when his mind failed to form a coherent argument. He was still foggy from the drugs (Kudo must have hit him with something after he'd dozed off and then moved him here), and that combined with the expert bindings were proving a tough nut to crack. Oh god, he was going to die here…

At the hands of the world's least likely serial killer.

Finally, as Kudo was kneeling down next to him, Kaito managed to choke out a question. "Why?"

Kudo smiled. "You said it yourself. A detective is nothing but a critic. So think of this, Kuroba, as the ultimate critique." Seemingly satisfied with himself, he slipped the bag over Kaito's head and taped it around his neck.

Between the limited air and the encroaching panic, it didn't take long for Kaito to start feeling light-headed. He struggled against his bonds, desperate to get loose, but in all too short a time his ears started to burn and the edges of his vision grew blurry. He could feel his pulse pounding in his temple and oh god whose death was he going to be set up to emulate would it be his dad's he hoped not he couldn't handle that oh god oh god oh god…

Just before Kuroba Kaito lost consciousness for the final time, Kudo leaned down and whispered something into Kaito's ear. The last words he would ever hear, and they shocked Kaito to the core.

"…NEVER GONNA GIVE YOU UP, NEVER GONNA LET YOU DOWN, NEVER GONNA RUN AROUND…"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> YOU HAVE BEEN FIC-ROLLED! This chapter was actually written and first posted on April Fool's Day as a prank. Apparently I scared a couple of people :D


	4. Clouding Over

The rain hadn't stopped, and Kaito shivered involuntarily against it. Hopefully this would be a quick trip: get in, get what he needed, and get out. It had taken some serious pleading to get this meeting set up in the first place; he wasn't looking forward to it any more than his informant was. But it had to be done.

After all, this was one of the reasons the higher-ups at the police department had offered him the deal in the first place.

He slipped into the warehouse (the appointed meeting place) unnoticed, and was immediately thankful to be out of the rain. It might not have been much warmer inside, but it was certainly dry and a pleasant respite from the precipitation pounding down on him. A quick glance around revealed a faint light glowing at the far end of the warehouse. He followed it, and found who he was looking for.

"Nice to see you again," he said respectfully. "I do appreciate you meeting with me like this."

His informant was not the sort of man one would want to meet up with in a darkened alley. He looked gruff and dangerous, a man with a criminal record for petty theft, burglary, and other assorted crimes, all comparatively minor. He wasn't the sort who set out to harm others, and in fact had once admitted (under the influence of a little bit of alcohol, of course) that he had a soft spot for kids. It was this man who had put Kaito on the track of the child brothel that had been his first case for the police.

Petty crime was one thing. Harming children was an affront to the underworld's odd honor code.

The man grunted. "Right on time. Figgered you wouldn' keep me waitin'."

The glow that had led Kaito to the meeting spot was coming from a small fire inside a metal bucket. Light and warmth, both very much needed in this place. There were two boxes propped up on either side of the fire. His informant was sitting on one; Kaito took a seat on the other, taking care to keep the brim of his hat down. He was wearing dark clothes and a hat, looking more like a thief now than he did when he was actually out stealing things.

"You said that you saw something related to the murders," Kaito asked quietly.

"I did," the man said. "But I ain't sayin' a word to police. Jus' you."

"I understand," Kaito nodded. "I'll take them your testimony anonymously, like I did before."

"Shouldn' be trustin' ya with this…"

A small smile crossed Kaito's face. "How many times in the past have you given me information?"

"…a few," the man finally seemed to decide on.

"How many times have I breathed a word of your identity, name or otherwise, to police?"

"…heh," the man chuckled, a dark sound. "But this one? This's diff'rent. I don't wan' any cops comin' my way. Not a one, ya hear me?"

Kaito's smile had quickly faded into a suspicious frown. "I understand your reluctance to talk with police, but you seem a bit more adamant about it tonight. You know I won't tell anyone you told me anything. Why so concerned about it?"

The informant leaned forward. "'Cuz one of yer precious cops is th'one who did it."

Kaito's blood ran cold in his veins. "What?"

"I saw 'em," the informant said seriously. "Wasn' 'til I saw the news that I figgered it out. The twin broth'rs. I saw one of 'em come outta the bar. Talkin' on a phone. Guy walked up to 'im, and I swear to God, 'e had a badge. They talk'd for a few, an' the kid walked with the guy aroun' the corner. Didn' see the kid again, but the guy? 'e came back."

"What did he do?" Kaito pressed. His stomach was busy coiling itself into unpleasant knots.

"Sat on a bench acros' the street. Waited. After a bit, 'nother kid came out. Thought t'was the same one, but musta been the broth'r. The guy show'd the badge again. Kid looks real concerned, and off they go, 'round the corner. A few minutes later, cop car pulls outta the parkin' lot."

"A squad car?"

"Damn straight. Saw it there earlier, didn' think much o'it. Figgered 'e was lookin' fer drunks or somethin'. Didn' see the kids again, 'til their faces woun' up all over the news." The informant glanced around. "I don' wan' nothin' to do with it, Shadow. Don' need no dirty cop comin' after me."

Shadow. That was the alias he had given them, and so it was what most of his informants had taken to calling him during these visits. It was trite, but effective. He wore black, kept his face covered, and gave no clues as to his identity. They knew only that he trusted their word and took their anonymous testimony to the police. It was safer that way.

The man's eyes narrowed, looking particularly dangerous in the firelight. "You be careful. Yer a good kid. Don' wan' 'em to get you, too."

Kaito nodded. "I'll be careful. I promise. You watch out for yourself as well. And thank you for this. Thank you very, very much."

**_-o-_ **

Kaito threw down the folder and sat back in his chair. His frustration level had hit a fever pitch, an usual feeling for someone who was usually so calm and laid-back. "I don't know what we're even looking for anymore. The killer didn't leave a shred of evidence behind, not so much as a fingerprint or a strand of hair. There's no connection between the victims at all…and I swear I have all of these case files memorized."

The police had been going about the case diligently, examining every possible aspect of the victims' personal lives. They'd looked into where they were from, where they'd gone to school, their jobs, even what dry cleaners they used. A few of the officers had even tried playing the Six Degrees of Connection game, in search of a way to connect them. But there was no consistent pattern, no real thread linking the murdered men together. The only ones with any sort of definitive collection were, regretfully, the twin brothers whose bodies had been burned in a recreation of the magician Lafayette's final show.

After hours of going over the same notes and same files over and over again, Kaito was at his wits' end. Especially when he had further information and just hadn't quite figured out how to use it yet. He had every intention of having a conversation with Nakamori-keibu later, regarding that little matter.

Judging by the expression Kudo was giving him from the other side of the table, the young detective felt very much the same, but was doing a slightly better job of not throwing things. "I know. But there has to be something we're missing. There's always a pattern, Kuroba, and there's always a hint in there somewhere. Frequently the pattern itself is the hint." Kudo leaned forward to rest his elbows on the table, his chin coming to lean on one hand. "There's one thing about this that really jumps out at me, though…"

"What's that?"

"…the lack of evidence, actually," Kudo said, flipping a folder shut. "It's not entirely unheard of for a murderer to leave no trace behind, but…it's not that likely. There's a saying in law enforcement: 'A criminal always leaves something of himself at the scene of the crime, and takes something away with him.' And I have never found that saying to be untrue. There's always a trace, either on the killer or on the scene. But in this case, I'm wondering if the lack of evidence is a clue itself."

Kaito blinked, then got it. "You mean someone who knows exactly how to ensure that they don't leave anything behind. Someone who knows what to look for in terms of cleaning up after themselves." Amazing. Absolutely amazing.

"Exactly. There's even a note on the case-file for the magic shop killing that said the rugs appeared to have been freshly vacuumed, and there was evidence of blood having been cleaned up - not just wiped, but with the appropriate chemicals. That's a serious knowledge of how to clean up," Kudo sighed. "As much as I hate to say it, I think that could point to someone with a background in law enforcement, whether an active member or a past member." He shrugged. "But that's conjecture. There's no concrete proof to support the idea."

"Maybe not concrete proof…but there's circumstantial evidence to support it," Kaito said slowly, thinking carefully about what he was going to say. It amazed him how Kudo could arrive at what Kaito himself knew to be the current conclusion based on only the scantest, loosest of evidence. "Aside from your thought, what about the case-files themselves? It would be a lot easier for someone on the inside to keep the already-obscure pattern hidden, don't you think?"

"…that's a valid point," Kudo conceded. "But it's entirely possible that some random nutjob out there has just been getting lucky."

"Luck may be a lady, Kudo, but she's also quite fickle," Kaito said. "Lucky once or twice, maybe. This many times says experience to me."

"I'm aware of other criminals who've gotten away with various things and not left a shred of evidence behind. Gin and Vodka and their cohorts in the Black Organization come to mind." There was no mistaking the shudder that ran up Kudo's spine at the thought of the men who had sought to kill him and sent him into hiding for so long. Kaito knew the case well, both for personal and professional reasons.

Personally: he liked Kudo as a person and as a rival, and he didn't like seeing anyone get hurt, period.

Professionally: Kudo's Organization and Kaito's Organization had proven to be one and the same, meaning that even after Snake's arrest on the night Kaitou Kid had been shot, it had been Kudo to put a final nail in the Organization's coffin.

Kudo was still speaking. "Kaitou Kid is another one. There's evidence of how he does his tricks, but never really anything that would lead to his identity. I think they know his blood type now, but that's about it."

Kaito couldn't quite keep the chuckle from escaping him. "I think we both need coffee and possibly a snack. Shall we go hit up the break room? Megure-keibu said we could help ourselves if we needed it."

"You know, that actually sounds really good," Kudo nodded and rose to his feet.

It wasn't far from the conference room to the break room, a fact which amused Kaito, for odd reasons. He had visions of officers dragging themselves from boring meetings towards the safe haven of the break room and its altar to coffee. Kaito was also well aware that his imagination was extremely odd and prone to going places where it often shouldn't.

He and Kudo had been working in close contact with the police for several days now; it had been almost two weeks since the discovery of the body that had started this whole thing in the first place. The two young men got along quite well. Both were the children of famous, influential people, and both had carried on in their fathers' footsteps. They were of similar intelligence and shared some interests. It was developing into a fast friendship, something Kaito was alternatively enjoying and eyeing warily.

He genuinely liked the detective. Kudo Shinichi was similar to Hakuba, but with a great deal less arrogance (though Kaito was sure some of that had been knocked out of the detective along with a meter of height and his peace of mind). But he couldn't quite shake the fact that Kudo was still watching him, as though waiting for some indication of why exactly he felt he knew the magician.

So Kaito had to maintain a constant balance between keeping his guard up and acting like a normal person. It was a tightrope walk…but Kuroba Kaito had never been afraid of heights.

There were a few others in the break room when they arrived. Satou Miwako was reading something on the bulletin board on one wall, and three uniformed officers were sitting around the table, drinking coffee and laughing at a joke one of them had apparently just told. They waved as the two young men entered and made room for them to sit with their own coffee cups.

One sip of the coffee told Kaito something new about Kudo Shinichi: the detective had taste buds of steel if he was able to drink the acid in the cup without so much as flinching. A little milk diluted it more to Kaito's taste, and he resumed sipping.

After some fairly boring conversation about the weather (it had been raining a lot lately), a recent baseball game, and something cute one officer's daughter had done the other day, one of the cops turned to Kaito. "So…you're Kuroba Toichi's son, right?"

It took Kaito a moment to place the man's name: Kurosawa. A regular officer, not someone you would probably notice in a crowd. "I am," Kaito nodded.

"I was a fan of your father's, way back in the day," he said, sipping his drink. "Saw him perform live a few times."

"I think I did too, come to think of it," another officer (was his name Suoh? Something like that…a broad man with a large nose) spoke up. "My sister was a huge fan. Dragged me to the show. I couldn't admit to her that I enjoyed it." He chuckled to himself at what was obviously a private joke.

"How goes the murder investigation, boys?" Satou asked; she was leaning on the back of Kaito's chair. "Any luck?"

"Not really. A few theories, but no proof of anything," Kudo said. "I want to make a victim board, if that's all right. Maybe seeing it all spread out will trigger something. It's a long shot, but it might help." There was a beep, and Kudo glanced at his watch. "…but I think it'll have to wait until tomorrow. I have, umm…an appointment." Before anyone could so much as blink, Kudo Shinichi had left the room.

Kaito glanced up at Satou. "And by appointment, he means…?"

"Date," she clarified. "He has a date."

"Oh, he's chasing after the Mouri girl now, right?" Kurosawa said with a smirk. "Boy better be careful."

"Somehow, I think he's more than a match for her," Satou said, and Kaito, knowing what he knew, was forced to agree out loud. He did not, however, mention that he knew there was a betting pool being started by a few officers regarding when Mouri Ran was going to show up with a ring on her finger.

Internally, he had been mulling over the case in his head, and decided that maybe it was time to take a different, decidedly less orthodox approach to solving the Magician Murders, as the media had been so quick to uncreatively dub them once the case had broken.

A very unorthodox approach indeed.

**_-o-_ **

"Kaito, you can't be serious," Aoko's voice was tinny over the phone, but there was no mistaking the concern.

Satisfied that his tie was secure, Kaito moved to shrug into his coat; he was in his secret room and had her on speakerphone. "I have to do it like this, Aoko. I can't just waltz into the police department as myself and say that I just wandered into the bad part of town, spoke with some less than reputable citizens about the murders, and got information out of them. Even if they believed me, I'd have to explain it. So I'm going to put it in the hands of a professional and let him deal with it."

"Kudo Shinichi tried to put you behind bars before, Kaito. If he realizes who you are, or even catches you…Kaito, he doesn't know that you're working for the police." The background noise told Kaito that Aoko was pacing on her end; the mental image made him smile.

"I'm worried about your dad. If he keeps popping up with these quote-unquote 'tips' that prove to be right, sooner or later someone's going to start raising an eyebrow, which we can't allow to happen. Kudo is unofficially the lead detective on this case, so it makes the most sense to give it to him. Plus," Kaito paused in the act of securing his cap to his shoulders. "…I know it doesn't necessarily make sense, but Kudo and I have a sort of…understanding, I guess would be the best way to put it. A gentleman's agreement. He knows that when it's important, he can trust me. And he wants to solve this case. I really believe he'll listen to what I have to say."

"I don't like it," Aoko said after a moment's pause. "I don't like it at all. Why do you have to be such a risk taker?"

Kaito grinned to himself at his small victory, and pulled his hat into place. "It's all part of the job description."

**_-o-_ **

The only indication Shinichi had that anyone else was in the room was a whispered rush of displaced air. He tensed immediately and reached for the reading lamp on the desk. It was heavy enough that it could do damage if there was an intruder in the house. Goodness knew that he'd gotten a bit more paranoid about things in the days since his first encounter with Gin and Vodka.

"Who's there?" he said calmly, loudly, with enough force to indicate he was not afraid.

"At ease, meitantei. I come in peace."

At the sound, much of the tension left Shinichi's body, and he lowered the lamp back to the desk. "I'd appreciate it if you came out into the open and explained yourself. I'm working on a case, and I'm not in the mood to mess around."

Kaitou Kid all but materialized in the middle of the library, arms folded casually across his chest. "You seem a bit stressed, detective."

"That's because I am," Shinichi said shortly. He leaned back against the desk. "So what brings you here tonight, Kid? It can't just be because you wanted the dubious pleasure of my company."

A white scarf appeared in Kid's hand, and he moved said hand enough to make the scarf wave a bit. "Consider this my white flag of truce, Kudo. I come bearing the gift of information, and I think it's something that would be quite relevant to your current case."

Shinichi realized that he wasn't all that surprised by Kid's words. Perhaps it had even occurred to him, in some corner of his mind, that Kaitou Kid would take an interest in this particular mystery. After all, he was the consummate magician. And really, what harm could it do? When he was pursuing the thief, he wouldn't trust the man farther than he could throw him. But at a moment like this, just the two of them discussing a common interest…?

With a short chuckle, Shinichi nodded. "Truce, then. Have a seat."

Shinichi took the big chair, while Kid opted for a seat on the couch. "I do appreciate you listening to what I have to say. This is not a good situation."

"No, it isn't. We've got seven victims total - five cold cases, and the one that just popped up that actually led to the break in the case. That one just hasn't had time to go cold yet. There's every possibility that there might be more out there somewhere that we don’t know about or haven't found yet. And there's not a single goddamn piece of evidence that I can find anywhere," he paused, then smiled dryly. "But somehow, I suspect that I'm telling you a whole bunch of things you already know."

"I've taken the liberty of familiarizing myself with the case. Quite possibly without the knowledge of the law enforcement officials running the investigation," Kid said airily. Then he sobered, the most solemn expression Shinichi had ever seen from the thief. He leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees, hands open with palms up in an open gesture. "What I bring to you is a recommendation. According to information from a source I will not disclose, you need to turn your investigation inward, Kudo."

It took a moment for Shinichi to realize what he meant. "…you're not saying--"

"That's exactly what I'm saying. Your killer is someone within the police department. They know how to hide evidence, or if any evidence was ever actually found, it could easily be lost, destroyed, or misplaced."

"What of this source?"

"I will not tell you who told me. But I trust this person. My source had no reason to lie to me."

"Is this the first time this source has helped you?"

"No, it's not," Kid said.

"I presume that you will not tell me who this source is?"

"If I did, I would never hear from him again," Kid replied. He actually smiled bitterly. "The person in question set in motion the chain of events leading up to the bust of the child brothel a few months ago." He felt safe letting Kudo in on that little secret. It was one of those situations where it really didn't matter how the information came to light. It mattered only that it had come to light, period.

He was proven right when Kudo raised an eyebrow. "An anonymous tip, as I understood it."

"Contrary to popular belief, I am occasionally capable of discretion."

"Color me shocked." The banter ended there as Kudo's expression once again grew grim. "Tell me what you know."

It didn't take too terribly long for Kid to fill the detective in on what he knew. Kudo listened quietly, nodding at appropriate intervals, and stayed silent for a moment after Kid's story had come to an end. The thief didn't press on the matter, though. He could practically hear the gears turning in Kudo's head, and far be it for him to interrupt the master at work.

Finally, Kudo spoke up. "I'll mention it to Megure and Nakamori first thing tomorrow. I presume that this should remain an anonymous tip as well?" When Kid nodded, Kudo shook his head wryly. "I'm not entirely sure how I'm going to explain this away, precisely, but I'll do my best." Now he fixed the thief with a curious look. "I have to ask, though - why are you so interested in this case? It doesn't seem like it's something up your alley."

"Magicians are right up my alley, meitantei," Kid said. "And quite frankly, aside from despising murderers, I find it offensive that someone would drag the magical arts through the mud in such a manner."

To his mild surprise, Kudo laughed. "You're a strange one." The detective rose, and to Kid's further surprise, held out a hand. "I do appreciate it, though. This case isn't an easy one, and so far there's no evidence of the killer or evidence of actual logic behind it. I'll take all the help I can get on this one." He tilted his head to one side. "If you happened to stumble onto any further information…"

"You'll be the first to know, meitantei," Kid said.

Kudo nodded, seemingly believing him. But he kept his head tilted, regarding the thief with an odd look.

"…is there something on my face?" Kid asked lightly after a moment, though he was fighting to keep from outright shivering at the inexplicable feeling of ice in his stomach. What was going through Kudo's head? "Or is there something about you I don't know and there's a different reason you'd like to get me in handcuffs?"

A snort was the response, and Kudo seemed to shake himself out of whatever thought it was that had so held him. Oddly enough, the apparent dismissal didn't make Kid feel any better regarding whatever it was that the detective had been so pondering. Even as he bid Kudo a pleasant evening and made his spectacular poof of an exit from the house, he couldn't quite ditch the feeling that somehow, something in the final moments of their exchange had gone wrong.

**_-o-_ **

Two days later, Kaito was roused from a particularly restless sleep (he had not had nightmares like this since his father's funeral) by the irritating sound of his phone. It sounded far too cheerfully, playing a digital symphony's rendition of Beethoven's Fifth Symphony. He answered it, still shaking off the remnants of the awful dream, and listened to a very subdued-sounding Kudo Shinichi on the other end of the line.

Another body had been found.

By the time the police car arrived ten minutes later, Kaito was already waiting on the front step. Kurosawa was in the driver's seat - Kaito remembered him as being one of the officers he had become acquainted with during a visit to the break room. The ride to the site was relatively silent, and far too long for the young man's tastes. Kurosawa tried a couple of times to coax Kaito into conversation, but given what he was on his way to witness, idle chit-chat was not high on his list.

The place was crawling with police officers. Kaito bid a quiet thank you to his chauffer, who nodded and wished him luck. He spied Kudo immediately, standing next to Megure. Nakamori was there as well, talking to a uniformed officer a few meters away. Yellow tape fenced off the area that, presumably, held the remains of the unfortunate victim. He joined Kudo and got the basic information on this newest development.

This body had been found out in this open field, at the mercy of the elements, animals, and insects. It had obviously been there a good while, probably earlier than any of their other cases. Advanced decomposition was going to make identification extremely difficult, and it would be impossible to determine a precise cause or time of death, but the medical examiner was confident he could glean some information from the body.

But two things had jumped out at them all right there on the scene, and it was those reasons that had led to Kaito being summoned: the presence of a hunting rifle beside the body, and a bright orange canvas vest, like something that would be worn by construction workers or hunters for greater visibility. It was strange enough to warrant asking their resident expert and consultant if there was anything odd about it.

Kaito stared down at the unfortunate victim (a male, probably in his twenties, the coroner pronounced on the scene, although he wouldn't know much more until he got the remains into autopsy and was able to take a good look). His stomach did an unpleasant turn at the sight of it. Kudo might be accustomed to this sort of thing, but Kaito was not, and his emotions were mixed, between revulsion and anger and no little sadness at the whole thing.

He took everything in quietly, barely noticing when Kudo moved up behind him. "Contrary to what it might seem, this really doesn't get any easier with experience," the detective said, leaving Kaito to wonder (not for the first time) if Kudo was secretly in possession of mind-reading abilities. "I've just learned how to detach from it all and look at it objectively while I'm trying to figure it out. The nausea can come after the murderer is in handcuffs."

Kaito nodded. "The Mormon Wizard."

"Hmm?" Kudo sounded confused.

"Dante, the Mormon Wizard. Magician. Died in Australia in 1899 after being shot. It was a hunting accident." He shrugged, swallowing firmly to shove the nausea back down where it belonged. Now was not the time. "I don't think we can really know for sure, given the…state of things. Doubt we'll get a cause of death, so we don't know one hundred percent if this fits the pattern. But…"

"But it's likely," Kudo nodded. "The Mormon Wizard." He gave the magician a look. "Do all magicians die in such unusual fashions?"

He tried desperately to resist the jibe, but it was practically out of his mouth before he could even attempt to stop himself. "Do all detectives get shrunk down to their seven year old selves?"

Kudo smirked. "Point made."

Seven victims. Six cases. One big fat honking puzzle that seemed to be missing far too many pieces.

And Kaito couldn't help but think that there was one certain magician's death that had yet to be emulated…

**_-o-_ **

The discovery of the body had been a severe blow to everyone's morale, and spirits at the Tokyo Metropolitan Police Headquarters were at an all-time low, for those involved in the investigation. Even Kaito, master of Poker Face and wearer of a seemingly perpetual smile, was hard-pressed to keep from looking dejected.

Oh, the body they had found was from long ago (probably well over a year in the elements, and they were still working on an identification), and so was from well before they had even been aware of the serial killer. But it felt like they had just let someone else die, and so it felt like a failure. An irrational failure, but a failure nonetheless.

Sitting in the conference room, Kaito watched as Kudo started laying things out on the table in little piles. "For the uninitiated, what exactly are you doing?"

"We've looked at the cases individually, and found absolutely nothing except a set of bad circumstances and even worse timing," Kudo said, throwing a measuring eye to the bulletin board behind him. "I'm hoping that putting everything up in front of me and looking at it as a whole will spark something." He sighed and folded his arms, leaning against the table. "I feel like I'm missing something, Kuroba. Something right in front of me. And I have a feeling I'm going to feel like a total idiot when I realize what that something is."

"Kudo…" Kaito began slowly, not even sure why he was saying this, "…sooner or later, there will be a case you can't solve."

Kudo froze and gave him an unreadable look. "I know," he said finally, after a long pause. "But that doesn't mean I'm going to let it be this one. I'm not giving up." He actually managed a small smile, then. "But if you want to see me mess up a case, there's a really easy way to do it."

"Oh?" This was news to Kaito. "What's that?"

"Put my father within five hundred meters of me. Guaranteed I'll screw it up sideways."

That earned a rather undignified snort of surprise from Kaito, which in turn made Kudo's smile grow a bit wider before he returned to the task at hand. "If you're tired, Kuroba, you can go home. No reason for us both to stay up all night."

"Are you sure?" Kaito asked. He felt odd about the idea of leaving now, when Kudo was working so hard. When he'd first gotten involved in this case, he had been a bit leery about getting so publicly involved in something along these lines. There was a big difference between helping from the shadows, invisible and anonymous, and helping out in the light, where everyone could see him. But this case had gotten under his skin for reasons both personal and professional, public and private, and he was going to see the guilty parties brought to justice.

"You look dead on your feet. Maybe you're staying up too late," Kudo said absently.

For a moment, Kaito wondered if there was something more to that statement.

"Anyway, I'm sure one of the officers would give you a lift home if you need one," Kudo went on, starting to pin things up to the boards. The victims' names all went up at the top, a column for each of the ones they had been able to identified. The most recent body would not yet be accounted for on here, not until further information could be gathered on the anonymous victim.

"Someone needs a lift?" Kurosawa had appeared in the doorway, holding a folder, which he passed to Kudo. "This is the file you requested, Kudo-san."

"Thank you. And I think Kuroba needs a ride home," he said.

Kaito gave the officer a weak smile. "I hate to impose."

"Not a problem. I'm off for the night myself. C'mon, off we go," Kurosawa flashed them a thumbs up and disappeared out into the corridor.

"It seems like he's driving me around a lot," Kaito observed as he got to his feet. "Nice guy, though. Anyway, I'll talk to you tomorrow. If you figure anything out, call me, okay?"

"It's a promise," Kudo said. "Goodnight."

**_-o-_ **

Shinichi wasn't entirely certain what he was trying to accomplish by making the victim board at this point. According to Megure, the police had done extensive research into each of the victims as the cases had been brought to light as part of a bigger picture; the only two victims with a connection were the identical twins who made up the only case with more than one victim. The murdered people appeared to have been chosen at random - victims of opportunity and a bad case of being in the wrong place at the wrong time.

Still, he was not one to give up unless there was absolutely no other avenue left, and even then it wasn't always guaranteed that he would throw in the towel. If he had, chances were that he probably wouldn't have been able to track down Gin and knock out the legs of the Black Organization. So here he stood as the minutes ticked later and later into the evening, sticking notes and photos up on a board.

He had examined every single case on an individual basis. Now he was going to look at all of it collectively.

With a final press of a thumbtack through a piece of paper and into the corkboard, Shinichi stood back to examine his handiwork. Each case was spread out in front of him alongside the others. All the details and information he had on the victims, the scenes where the victims were found, the conditions of the bodies…

It was sad how a person's death could be so easily reduced to such slips of paper.

He took a step back and leaned against a convenient desk, folding his arms across his chest as he regarded the results of his handiwork. His eyes wandered over each of the photos, one by one, taking in everything and assimilating the details into the enormous filing cabinet that Ran accused him of having in place of a mind (on the days she was willing to admit he had a brain, that is).

…perhaps he was overly tired from this case, but it took him a long moment to realize something that, in hindsight, should have been obvious from the very beginning. He went from one photo to the next, onwards until he reached the final one, and then back again along the row of faces.

Victim number one. Young male, healthy, brown hair, blue eyes.

Victim number two. Young male, healthy, brown hair, blue eyes.

Victim number three…

Victim number four…

Five…

Six…

...

Shinichi could have smacked himself in the face with a hardcover copy of _The Hound of the Baskervilles._ How stupid was he?

"Megure!" he barked, a bit startled to realize how panicked he sounded. But he was panicked, he realized, because there was more than one implication of his belated realization. He should have stuck those photos next to each other far earlier, shouldn't he?

When the portly inspector wandered over with Satou-keiji in tow, Shinichi pointed at the board. "I've found our victim profile."

Megure blinked at the board, confused. "Kudo-kun, there is no relation between the victims."

"Take a good look at them. Every single one of them," he entreated. "Notice anything about the way they look?" He waved an arm towards the pictures. His inner Sherlock took over, and Shinichi was off and running. "The victim profile is as shallow as physical appearance. All of the victims are young males, late teens to mid-twenties. They're all relatively healthy, slender build, with brown hair and blue eyes." He stepped closer to the board, arms refolding across his chest. "Our killer didn't just randomly pick people. He was choosing people who fit a physical profile. Which means that whoever committed these murders is a lot craftier than we initially thought."

"That would take a lot of time," Satou said slowly. "The perp is someone who's not necessarily in a hurry. They're willing to take the time to find someone who looks right, wait for an opportunity, make the grab, get away from the scene, and commit the actual murder." She grimaced. "But if we assume the killer watches the victim suffocate, then maybe that's the reward of sorts?" She visibly shuddered.

Megure spoke up now, thoughtfully. "Perhaps you should watch your back, Kudo-kun. You fit that profile perfectly." He raised a concerned eyebrow at the younger man.

Shinichi blinked at him. Then he looked at the photos. Then he looked back at Megure, and a light bulb visibly went on over his head. "Oh my god, where the hell is my brain tonight?" He dove past the inspector, grappling to grab his cell phone from where he had left it on the desk. His hands were uncharacteristically shaky as he struggled to dial the correct number. But finally he managed, and he pressed the phone to his ear. "Come on, pick up the phone…"

Finally, the recipient picked up, and a now-familiar voice answered, "'lo?"

"Kuroba. Thank god," Shinichi muttered, the curse slipping out involuntarily. "Call me an idiot, but I think I've got the connection between our victims."

He could hear the sound of a car in the background; they must still be en route. "What is it?"

For what seemed like the eightieth time in probably five minutes, Shinichi rattled it all off. He felt like a walking, breathing echo. "Physical appearance. Young males, late teens to mid twenties, slender build, brown hair, blue eyes." He paused, practically hearing the gears turn in Kuroba's head. "Sound like anyone you know?"

"Two someones, actually. You and me," Kuroba said. He sounded almost amused. "In case you missed it, we look alike."

"You also have the added connection of magicians," Shinichi pointed out.

"It just sort of surprises me that someone would go after people based on how they look."

"Ever heard of Ted Bundy?" Shinichi asked.

"The name sounds familiar…"

"American serial killer, wound up being very high-profile. Murdered young dark-haired women because they reminded him of a girlfriend who broke up with him," Shinichi said. "There was another guy who went after brown-haired girls for a similar reason. He actually went after Sonoko."

There was the sound of a car door closing. Kurosawa must have just dropped him off at home, a notion confirmed when Kuroba moved his mouth away from the receiver to say something presumably to the officer before returning his attention to the call. "So you've found the connection. Still leaves the questions of why the bodies are being left to mimic magicians' deaths. But good find, Kudo."

"I don’t know if this will give us any help, but it's something," Shinichi said.

"You think this could lead us to the killer." It was a statement, not a question.

"It gives us a better focus." Shinichi had been slowly moving away from the board, out into a corridor where there was no one to hear his end of the conversation. "Look, I just wanted to let you know that you should be careful, all right? Don't take unnecessary risks." He paused, then added, "After all, I know you're an adrenaline junkie." Then he waited.

There was a pause, just a split second too long and just long enough to indicate surprise. Then Kuroba barked a laugh. "Adrenaline junkie? What gives you that idea?" Shinichi could hear a note of something in the other teen's voice, and wondered if maybe he was right after all. "Anyway, thanks for the warning, Kudo. You keep an eye on yourself as well, and I promise I'll be care--"

A dull thunk.

Kuroba let out a grunt.

And then a louder thud, like something heavy hitting the ground, accompanied by the clatter of plastic against cement.

Shinichi's fingers tightened around his phone. "Kuroba?"

There was no reply.

He tried again, already moving back towards the victim board, where Megure and Satou were still standing and rereading over the information there. "Kuroba, answer me, dammit."

Still no answer. And after another couple of seconds…

Whoever was on the other end of the line hung up.


End file.
